Night attack

The cave was enormous, its towering ceiling giving the Saints plenty of room to move at their heightened speed. For nearly three hours, they dashed through the dimly lit passage, the sound of their footsteps reverberating against the rocky walls. When they finally emerged from the cave, they stood atop a mountain, 10 miles away from the Void Cult's base. The view below was a dense, alien jungle that stretched toward the hidden enemy stronghold.

Ralak stopped at the edge of the mountain, scanning the landscape. His gaze was cold, calculating. "Split up," he commanded, his voice low but firm. "Surround the base and stay in groups of three. I'll enter through the front entrance alone. When you hear my signal, attack with everything you have."

The Saints nodded in agreement, their faces solemn. Without a word, they took off in all directions, their figures disappearing into the dense jungle, moving with the speed and grace that the Primordial God's blessing had given them. Ralak watched them for a moment before taking off himself, his movements swift and silent.

He navigated the thick, alien foliage with ease, the towering trees and glowing flora parting before him as if recognizing his divine purpose. The closer he got to the Void Cult's base, the more focused he became, his senses sharpening with every step. Soon, he arrived at the front entrance, hidden among the massive, gnarled roots of ancient trees. Two Vorasis guards stood at attention, their six eyes scanning the perimeter lazily—until they saw him.

"Huh, who is that?" one of the Vorasis muttered to his companion, noticing Ralak slowly approaching.

The second guard's eyes widened when he recognized Ralak's robes. His voice trembled with fear as he reached for a nearby bell. "RING THE BELL! A SAINT IS HERE!"

Panic swept through the guards, but Ralak's expression remained unreadable. He continued his slow, deliberate approach, each step radiating an unspoken promise of what was to come.

More guards rushed out of the base, panic evident in their movements. Each held a low-tech, industrial gun, weapons that had been developed with no belief in divine powers, only the cold precision of science. One of the guards froze as he took in the sight before him, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"Oh my , I've seen him before," he whispered. "That's the Sovereign, Ralak—not just a Saint."

The others hesitated for a moment, fear flickering across their faces. But one of the guards stepped forward, his voice trembling but determined. "Who cares! If we kill him, people will see the truth—that there is no god. Shoot him!"

Without waiting for further orders, the guards opened fire.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Their one-shot rifles roared, the bullets tearing through the air toward Ralak. But before they could reach him, the bullets stopped, hanging in mid-air just inches from his body, as if an invisible barrier had formed around him. The guards' eyes widened in horror, their minds struggling to comprehend what was happening. How could something so impossible defy their understanding of reality?

Ralak's cold gaze swept over them, his eyes filled with a silent fury. "You have all committed grave sins," he said, his voice as icy as his stare. "And for that, you shall all suffer."

Raising his hand, a blinding golden light shot forth from his palm, illuminating the dark jungle in an instant. The beam arced into the sky, signaling his Saints to begin the attack. The guards barely had time to react as the light scattered through the air, the echo of the signal reaching far and wide.

From the shadows of the jungle, the Saints moved in like a storm, each armed with divine power, ready to wipe the Void Cult off the map. Chaos erupted around the base as Ralak stood still, watching the guards scramble, their scientific minds now useless in the face of divine judgment.